Scarlett Yates froze for a mont, slowly lifting her head.
She finally saw the expression on Matthew Saxon’s face.
His expression was indifferent, and his gaze was faint. Those long, alluring eyes perhaps even carried a trace of impatience.
The impatience in his eyes felt like a bucket of ice water pouring over her head, jolting her muddled mind into clarity.
Scarlett Yates awoke as if from a ridiculous dream, suddenly realizing how foolish her actions were.
Old man, what exactly is she doing?!
What part of her mind wasn’t working right to have her do such things.
This bastard had done very offensive things to her, taking great advantage of her.
Earlier, she had explicitly expressed her stance, yet now she runs to him like a fool, concerned for him—isn’t she just slapping her own face?
No wonder he’s full of impatience; he probably also finds her quite laughable.
"Oh, since you’re fine, I’ll just go back to sleep."
Scarlett, knowing she’s an unwelco person, was still very conscious of herself.
She certainly didn’t want to remain and be annoying.
Tonight she had already done many inexplicable things; she didn’t want to make herself appear even stranger.
"Wait a mont." She had just turned around, yet hadn’t taken a step when the person behind her called out to her.
Scarlett hesitated for a mont, "Does the Young Master need sothing?"
Did he stop her to ridicule her a few tis before letting her go?
Matthew Saxon’s voice was still faint, "You were getting ready to knock to find just to find out how my hand injury is?"
Scarlett was silent for a few seconds; after hesitating, she nodded to admit, "Yes, but since Young Master is fine, I won’t disturb your rest."
"Who said I’m fine."
Matthew Saxon spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, "Just asking a couple of questions and leaving, is that your sincerity?"
"Then... what do you want?"
A shadow enveloped her, the tall and slender figure reaching her in an instant.
Scarlett Yates looked up in surprise.
Matthew Saxon extended his hand before her, still expressionless, his deep, dark eyes fixed on her. His low, rich voice carried a raspy allure, "At least deal with the wound properly; only then is it real sincerity."
As he finished speaking, the injured hand had already been extended under her gaze.
He hadn’t even washed it; the back of the hand was still stained with blood, a striking sight.
Perhaps the night outside had fallen into his deep, enchanting eyes, those slender Peach Blossom Eyes sparkling with intoxicating brilliance.
As he looked at her, motionless, it was as if he was focused solely on her, so much so that his eyes seed to see only her.
Scarlett Yates’ heartbeat began to quicken again.
Unable to control the tremors, the wild thumping, her mind that had barely cleared began to turn muddled again.
Matthew Saxon gently stroked her soft, fair cheek with his injured hand, his voice sinking even lower, "Such a heartless, naughty girl."
The distance between the two was extrely close.
The aura emanating from him, strong like wine, made Scarlett Yates feel as if she were about to get drunk again.
With the last remnants of clarity in her mind, she stuttered in response, "Who... Who told you to take advantage of ? You asked for it; don’t think of blaming ."
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